“I suppose so,” she answered demurely.
They passed the big fountain beyond the Mall and skirted the lake to the bridge, crossed, walked along the water's edge to the laurel-covered crags and found a seat alone in the summer house that hides among the trees on its highest point.
The roar of the city was dim and far away. The only sounds to break the stillness were the laughter of lovers along the walks below and the distant cry of steamers in the harbor and rivers.
“You'd almost think you're in the mountains up here, now wouldn't you?” he asked, after a moment's silence.
“Yes. I call this park my country estate. It costs me nothing to keep it in perfect order. The city pays for it all. But I own it. Every tree and shrub and flower and blade of grass, every statue and bird and animal in it is mine. I couldn't get more joy out of them if I had them inclosed behind an iron fence, and the deed to the land in my pocket—not half as much, for I'd be lonely and miserable without someone to see and enjoy it all with me.”
“Gee, that's so, ain't it? I never looked at it like that before.”
He gazed at her a long time in silent admiration, and then spoke briskly.
“Now tell me about this North Carolina and all those miles and square miles of mountains.”
“You've a piece of paper and pencil?”
He lifted his hand school-boy fashion: